


Mirage

by TinyFakeFanficRock



Series: Ad meliora [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyFakeFanficRock/pseuds/TinyFakeFanficRock
Summary: It's a cool night, and Boone's subconscious decides to turn up the heat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Fallout Kink Meme.
> 
> I keep jumping around in the timeline, but in this one Boone and Mel have been traveling together for a while now and built up a solid working relationship and even some trust. And now, Awkward Boner Theatre.

Boone didn't remember an intact Pre-War lodge at Spring Mountain Ranch, but he'd just awakened inside one -- in a decent bed, even, -- so apparently there was one. He heard splashing in the lake behind it and went to see what had the Bighorners riled up in the middle of the night. It turned out the Bighorners were all over in the nearby field, and he'd actually heard Mel swimming.

She spotted him, paddled to the shallows, and walked halfway out of the water toward him. That was when he discovered she was naked. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes politely, but not before the unusually bright moon had shown him rivulets of water tracing over her breasts and stomach. Oh, god _damn_ , even that glimpse had him hard. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

And then Mel stunned him by extending her hand to him and saying in a low, seductive tone that he'd never heard from her before, "Why don't you join me, Craig?"

He felt sure there were a dozen reasons why he shouldn't, but damned if he could think of any of them at the moment, not with her running a teasing hand down between her breasts and then lower, over her belly, toward the dark hair just peeking above the waterline. His clothes were gone before he even thought about shedding them, and he waded into the water. It was cold, but not enough to blunt his erection, not when he was openly looking at everything he'd tried diligently not to imagine under her leather armor. It was even better than he'd pictured the handful of times his willpower had failed.

He stopped at arm's length from her to appreciate the view up close. For once in his life, he knew what to say. "Beautiful."

She smiled at him -- a rare real smile, not one of her sad or ironic ones, -- took his hands in hers, and set them on her breasts. He needed no further encouragement, stroking his thumbs across her nipples, already stiff from the cold water around them. She purred her approval and leaned into his touch, running her hands over his chest for a moment before pressing her body flush against his and sliding one fingernail carefully down his spine.

He shuddered hard at the delicious thrill that sent through him, shifted one hand to her hip and one to the back of her neck, and kissed her apple-sweet mouth. She hummed softly against his tongue, splayed her hands against his back, and pulled them both deeper into the water.

Still kissing her, he worked one hand between them and rubbed circles around her clit, varying the speed and pressure until her moans vibrating in his mouth told him he'd found the touch she liked best. He kept stroking until she tensed and trembled, cooing wordless pleasure in his ear. When she caught her breath, Mel wrapped her long legs around his waist and rolled her hips into his, and _damn_ , that felt almost as good as she sounded when she came.

The end of one of her braids had come untucked and was slowly dripping heavy beads of water onto her shoulder, about an inch from the base of her neck. On a whim, he lowered his mouth to lick up the droplets, and she actually _whimpered_ and tightened her legs around him. He did it again, adding a little sucking kiss, and she ground against him, letting out needy, breathy little cries that set him on fire despite the cold around them. He had thought he couldn't possibly get any harder, but hearing her usual composure so thoroughly destroyed proved him wrong. He needed to be inside her now, and apparently she agreed, slipping a hand down to guide his cock from the water's chill into her own wet heat, dragging a deep, ragged groan from him.

She clung to him and kissed him fiercely as he cupped her ass with both hands and thrust into her, adjusting the angle until her gasps told him it was just right. The water made holding her effortless, but he wanted to feel more of her weight on him, so he shifted his grip to support her and took a few steps back to the shallows. She continued to rock her hips against him, her hands clenching on his shoulders until he was sure he'd be wearing her fingerprints. That was fine by him, because _fuck_ , she felt so good around him, and he was so close, and then Mel threw her head back, crying out, "Oh, God, Craig, Craig --"

"-- Craig. You okay?"

And then he was back in the real world, the one where the only water around for at least a mile in any direction was in bottles, the one where Mel was fully clothed and looking at him with concern instead of desire, the one where the woman he _should_ have been having that dream about was dead by his own hand, the one where he was a fucking murderer and was going to be punished relentlessly for it for the rest of his miserable life. Well, at least that series of realizations killed his hard-on and spared him that embarrassment.

"You okay?" she repeated gently, crouching beside his bedroll. "That dream seemed intense."

That was one word for it. "Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay. I'll still listen if you change your mind." He always liked how she never pushed him to talk when he didn't want to, but he'd never been quite this grateful for it before.

And then she even handed him a subject change. "Breakfast is ready." She gestured to a tin plate of eggs and peppers, and he tucked in eagerly, not just to avoid further conversation. Mel was one of the few people he knew who actually liked cooking, and damn, was she good at it. Her husband must have been a lucky gu-- no, no, _no_ , he'd fucking _told_ himself, he was _not_ going down this road again, _not_ going to get her on God's shitlist along with everyone else he'd ever cared about. Fuck dreams. Even the nice ones dicked him around now.

Of course that day they had a long climb uphill. Of course it was quiet enough on the road to give him the opportunity to appreciate how long her legs were, and how well her armor fit her, and how _don't think about it don't think about it don'tthinkaboutit --_ Goddammit, this was going to be a long fucking day.


End file.
